In the countryside through which they passed the geburs- cheorls, sokemen and cottars- and on the larger estates slaves, were hard at work on their rustic pursuits. No matter what the nobles may do, or what armies march, the people had to sow and reap the year’s harvest- or all would starve. The last of the ploughing was being completed, teams of four, six or eight oxen dragging the metal-tipped wooden mould-board ploughs through the ground to turn the sod. In other fields the first of the sowing was taking place. In the meadows and pastures newly-born calves, lambs and foals suckled or gamboled under the watchful eyes of their herders.
Alan dismounted near the manor stables and a groom led Odin away to be rubbed down, watered and fed. Faran the steward greeted his lord with the news that Anne was still in London. Alan presumed she was still attending to business. Anne, originally from the commercial city of Ipswich, was still at heart a city girl and found the activity and insularity or a rural holding somewhat boring- although she could fulfill those duties admirably after her time as lady of two such households. However, she much preferred the stimulation of the ‘cut and thrust’ of merchant activity and the social life that a city could offer.
After performing several knee bends and back stretches to loosen his muscles after four days of riding Alan entered the luxuriously-appointed stone-built Hall, ordered the water in the large wooden tun barrel in the bathing house to be heated and wolfed down a meal of pork stew. An hour later he was soaking in the warm water, bathing properly for the first time in a month and allowing the warm water to loosen his tired muscles.
That evening Alan spent time with Faran receiving reports on progress in his several estates in the Hundred and issuing instructions. On the morrow he would ride to Great Bentley in the morning to view the progress of the horse-stud and in the afternoon see Toland the Thorrington headman and his assistant Erian.
Alan was up before the dawn, broke his fast and arrived at Great Bentley not long after dawn after a short ride. As with all horse-training establishments, activity was by that hour already in full swing. Alan discussed progress of the stud with stud-master Brunloc and the Norman horse-trainer William of Amiens, and was delighted to hear that the spring foaling was now complete with the addition of 74 new foals, both here and at the original establishment at Ramsey. The latter remained under the stern hand of the aged expert stud-master Roweson, who continued to keep a close eye on his former apprentice in the operation of the new stud at Great Bentley. These foals would in three years time be available and trained to either replace losses amongst the horses currently used by Alan’s men or to be sold at the horse markets of London, Winchester and Colchester. Specially bred and war-trained horses were almost unknown in England and each horse would bring a price that itself would more than cover the very high wages that Alan paid William the horse-trainer for his specialist services.
The mid-day meal was eaten leisurely in the company of Toland and Erian, who reported social and economic news of the village. Being spring there were a number of marriages to be celebrated, in some cases as a matter of urgency to ensure the nuptials were finalised before the birth of a child. There had been several deaths, and more births. The astarting of the woodlands to increase arable land had progressed well. There had been damage to the salt-pans in the winter storms and Alan was advised the repair work had already been completed to correct this.
The following day Alan, Leof and a ten-strong party of mounted huscarles led by Ranulf, who had all been left behind when the others marched on the northern campaign, rode south for London, covering the nearly seventy mile ride in a little over nine hours including meal stops. Alan had spent so much time on horseback over the last few weeks he was beginning to think he had forgotten how to use his legs and that his backside had died and gone to hell. The last couple of miles passing through the crowded city streets of London had been frustratingly slow with pedestrians, carts and wagons moving at a snail’s pace and road traffic being forced to trickle through narrow gaps between vendor’s stalls and the crowds of customers they attracted.
Arriving at Holebourn Bridge Alan dismounted from the rouncey he had ridden, handed the animal over to the stableboy Tiw, and then strode into the Hall. Anne was sitting in the Hall with Bjorn, the captain of the merchant cog Zeelandt which was owned by Alan and Anne. The huge old man with shaggy hair, beard, following moustache and twinkling bright blue eyes, watched as Anne, with an exclamation of delight, rose to kiss and hug her husband. After a long lingering kiss Alan turned towards the old Viking sea-captain, his arm around Anne’s shoulders tucking him in to her side. “God Hael, Bjorn! You are still alive I see, you old sea-pirate. How went the voyage?”
Bjorn snorted in feigned disgust at the defamatory, but formerly true, appellation of ‘pirate’. After a sip of ale while Alan and Anne were seating themselves together on a padded bench he replied, “Well enough, you young whippersnapper. I had to use those big cross-bows of yours on a pirate out of Guernsey. He must have been a new man and not heard about us. He never will now! I must get the men to practice more, it took over a dozen shots at less than a hundred paces to set him on fire using those fire-arrows of yours.” He was referring to Alan having placed a small ballista aboard the ship, mounted aft, and the special bolts he had fashioned that each carried a pint of incendiary material akin to Greek Fire, and which he now kept a close secret. Bjorn continued, “And then, damn me, on the return off Finistere we get becalmed and the tide nearly takes us onto the Penmark Rocks, just out from Quimper. You could see the crabs on the rocks waving to us by the time the lads used the oars to sweep us clear. I nearly shat my pants! How have you spent your spring?”
Despite Alan’s homecoming a simple though filling meal was served, there still being two days remaining in Lent and Anne being religiously observant. This comprised a Barnacle Goose pie, not considered to be meat as it was believed to reproduce from barnacles. Alan spent an hour or so describing the northern expedition and his part in it. “So apart from killing a few guards and a few men who were probably spies, my men did very little. The only fighting that happened was slaughtering a few rebels in York, men who had been too drunk or too stupid to run away, and we were asleep miles away at the time,” he concluded.
“So nothing was resolved?” asked Anne.
“Not so you would notice,” replied Alan. “York was retaken, which was necessary as whoever controls York controls the gateway south to the Midlands. The king wasn’t able to bring the rebels to battle. The leaders fled back to Scotland or overseas. There are virtually no towns in the north to take or hold and the push towards Durham was defeated by the weather- or some are saying by divine intervention.”
“I’ve heard that after Eastertide the queen and most of the ladies of the court will be returning to their family and friends in Normandy and the queen will visit her family in Flanders,” said Anne.
“Hmm,” replied Alan thoughtfully. “While the king has a strong grip on the duchy, we Normans are always a fractious lot and given to internal brawling. That’s why the king returns to Normandy each summer to sort out those arguments. Flanders is no longer quite as friendly as it was before. Philip of France is just old enough to think he needs to do something to show off his prowess, and the Angevins have resolved their civil war with Geoffrey le Barbu fighting his brother Fulk, and Geoffrey being the loser and being imprisoned last year. Fulk le Rechin would be more than happy to try to assume William’s overlordship of Brittany and Maine and try to recover some of the land and influence his duchy lost during Geoffrey’s reign.”